It's Kind Of A Funny Story
by aworldwellneverfind
Summary: Sometimes, you can find love in the most unexpected of places / A Zevie story with a little Kavin and Grelson! / Read, review and favorite if you want to make me smile! (: / NOW COMPLETE
1. Introduction

**This story is based loosely on ****_Its Kind Of A Funny Story_**** by Ned Vizzini. It follows a boy through his short time spent at a psychiatric ward. I hope you enjoy; if you do, I recommend reading the book or seeing the movie. This story is also based on my own personal experiences in a hospital. Please rate, comment and review. It'll mean the world to me. I accept both negative and positive comments. By the way, I know my characters are OOC – that's kind of what happens when you assign them mental disorders. (: I am in no way affiliated at all with How To Rock or Ned Vizzini's novel. This idea came to me one day and I thought I would try it out. I do not own the characters or the fore mentioned book.**

**I've had this written for a while, but I heard December is Zevie month, so why not? This story is fully finished, and I'll post additional chapters when I have time, if you guys seem interested. I'm sorry for the language and mature concepts in it. If you have a problem with those kinds of things, PLEASE DO NOT READ! I don't want to offend anyone! Without any further delays, please read / review / favorite! I hope you enjoy! **

**I wrote it for you guys, after all. **

* * *

It's Kind Of A Funny Story

I guess you can say it's a funny story. Maybe not every piece of the story is funny, but overall, the story is funny. And maybe not funny like laugh-out-loud funny. More like ironic-funny. Funny in a way that you maybe discuss it with your friends on a rainy day, over some coffee and maybe a scone or two. Or maybe funny in a way that you never bring it up again, and it will forever sit in your memories. Or maybe you'll forget it instantly. Regardless of what you think of it, I think it's _kind of_ a funny story.

I am depressed. I guess most people would say that I have no reason to be depressed. I certainly think it all the time. But I am. I am depressed. I can't control that.

I have a nice life. My dad works a lot, but it's not like I _never _see him, and it's not like I _need_ him either. I've been pretty independent my whole life. My mom, on the other hand, is always there. Everywhere I go, anything I do, she constantly wants to check up on me, if she cannot be with me herself. [Which is pretty hard when I'm out and about, getting high with my friends or maybe getting with some random city slut.] She is one of those touchy-feely kinds of people who never leave you alone and constantly worry. She loves me a lot. My younger brother is some sort of genius. He speaks English, French and Spanish fluently, and his vocabulary is immense. He is a history buff and people love him. He likes to watch the Discovery Channel and he plays with microscopes and all that. I'm pretty sure that he knows everything. He is six.

I guess you could say that I have a nice group of friends. We rag on each other a lot, but we're teenage boys. That's what teenage boys do. My best friend is a kid named Greg. Greg Hartlow. Greg and I met in second grade and we've been friends ever since. We both attend this school for really smart kids, St. Francis Academy. Greg is naturally smart the same way that my brother is. I have to really, really try.

Greg has a girlfriend named Maria. I've had a crush on Maria since slightly before she and Greg started dating, back in eighth grade. It's junior year now. It's been four years and they're still going strong. Go figure. Greg doesn't know about my crush, but I have a strange feeling that Maria does. Maybe it's the way that I look at her, or listen to her like she's the most important thing in the world. Maybe it's how I smile when she walks in the room, or how…

Sorry, I got sidetracked. Back to my story. I have depression. It's diagnosed. I take pills for it – Zoloft, to be exact. I see a therapist [Janet] once a week, a psychiatrist [Dr. Hyde] once a month. But despite all the progress I've been making with Janet and Dr. Hyde, they cannot help me when I am feeling particularly low. And they couldn't help me when I swallowed a boatload of pills that night.

And they didn't help me when I woke up in the children's psychiatric ward at Blessed Heart Hospital in a room that I apparently shared with a complete stranger.

Because say what you want about psychiatric help, pills, drugs, medicine in general, but from my experience, they don't take away the pain; they just numb it for a little while.

Sometimes life is a little more complicated than popping a couple pills into your mouth. Sometimes it takes a little more to be happy.


	2. Day 1

**I'm back sooner than I thought I would be; I figured it was kind of mean to leave you guys without actually, you know, telling you whose point of view that last chapter was and, you know... **

**And I missed you guys and your positive feedback. This is a long chapter, and I'm really hoping you guys respond well to it. It'd make me just the happiest little thing. Nothing quite like waking up to 10+ emails informing me that you guys follow / favorite / review. **

**Awh guys I love you! **

**I know that my story is long, but there are only a few chapters! I hope you guys have time to sit and read the whole thing, which would make me super happy, and I hope you guys have time to read / review / favorite! **

**WARNING: This chapter has kind of strong language. The views that my VERY OOC characters express are not necessarily mine and I mean in no way to insult or offend anyone. I don't own HTR though I wish I did. **

**Hope you guys all enjoy this like I enjoy you! (: **

* * *

Day 1:

I wake up on my own in a room entirely new to me. The room is bare except for two beds and a large window. My clothes are no longer; I am instead wearing what feels like a sheet with arms, a thinner, more lightweight version of a Snuggie, and a pair of itchy, light blue elastic pants.

_Where am I? _

Looking outside the window, I see traffic. People coming and going, busy. They look as though they have no time for anything.

_What happened last night? _

I remember not being able to sleep. I kept having nightmares of all the people I love, trying to kill me, telling me I'm better off dead, that they're better off without me, happier without me. Typical depression dreams.

_But what happened after that? _

I remember going into the bathroom, and… and…

_Think, Zander, think. _

…and…

_What did you do after that? _

I remember. I remember planning it for weeks, the perfect day to…

_To do what? _

To take my own life. I remember clearly, or clearly enough. I must have swallowed fifteen pills, different ones, just kept swallowing them down. And I remember dying, or at least blacking out. I definitely blacked out. But isn't that what death is? Isn't that how you die? Am I dead? Is this the traffic in Heaven? No, no. I wouldn't go to Heaven. I know suicide, the taking of one's own life, is punishable only by eternity spent in Hell. But why is everything so _white_? Am I being rethought? Am I in… what's it called? Purgatory? Do I even believe in that sort of thing?

_Do you? _

No. Yes. I don't know. I mean, I'm sure there had to be some way for me to become me, maybe a higher power, but not one that determines your fate. Because people have the power to determine their own fate. Or at least they should. I do believe in science, in that sort of thing, with the chemical reactions and all that forming cells and maybe people. What I don't believe in is the idea of religion. Why is one person, man, spirit put in charge of everyone? Who is to say that he won't abuse the power, sending people to hell who don't deserve it, making lives worse than they should be, giving people things like depression or post-traumatic stress disorder, even allowing war to exist. Because if I were the higher power that everyone, or almost everyone, so faithfully worshipped, I would make the world a perfect place, a place in which evil is not even an option. Maybe that's why I don't believe in that kind of thing.

_So you don't believe in God? _

Well, no. Or probably not. No. Maybe that's not the best thing to say while I sit in purgatory. Maybe He's real. It's possible. Anything's possible. But maybe He's just not as good as people say He is. Maybe He's like a real person, with real flaws and real challenges to overcome. It's certainly more likely than a perfect person causing mayhem for the fun of it. Maybe God gets angry the same way that I do. Maybe he suffers from depression too, and sometimes, maybe even God has his bad days. His low days. Maybe that's why some people are sick or evil and maybe that's why some people feel alone.

_Do you feel alone? _

I feel alone all the time. That could be a reason why I committed suicide, or attempted? I'm constantly alone. I have tons of people around, but I'm alone. People flood my surroundings, yet none that I can confess everything to. Sure, I have Janet. She listens to me. But she also judges me. Everything I say is written down, possibly recorded, evaluated, reevaluated, and judged. She judges everything. I cannot say all my true feelings. She's not a friend; she's paid to be there for me, to listen to me, to say she understands how I feel. But she doesn't understand. No one understands. That's why I'm here, or wherever I am. Because no one understands.

_Who is this person sleeping in the bed beside you? _

I… I don't know. I have no idea. I don't know if he's real or my head is playing tricks on me. I learned something about that… In school. In health class, we had a unit on mental illnesses, psychiatric disorders. I laughed, along with the rest of the class. Maybe this is my karma, my punishment. I'm envisioning a whole world of white.

Maybe I took some bad pills. Maybe the pills make you hallucinate. That's what is happening. I'm hallucinating. But I'm not crazy. I can't be crazy. Because crazy people cannot handle the stresses that I have, they cannot get into college, they cannot make it anywhere in life. They're just crazy. They get locked up and basically ruin their lives. Because they're crazy.

I notice a door in the far right corner. _How long has that been there? Why have I not seen it prior? _I run over to it, and grasp the cold, silver handle. I push down, but it pushes right back up. I wringle the handle, but it doesn't budge. I'm locked. Locked. I'm trapped in this spacious, empty white room.

I walk over to the person sleeping. Him. I see the face, innocent, young, probably no more than fifteen years old. I wonder again where I am. The face moves, and I back away slowly, but he just adjusts positions and continues to sleep. Walking back over, I take in the silence. With all the traffic outside, one would expect noise, and a lot of it. The walls appear to be soundproof, and… is that a camera in the corner?

Running over to the door, I slip and fall. There is a pair of blue socks on my feet that reach my mid-calf. Where did these socks come from? Where am I?

I pound on the door, over and over. I am careful not to scream, to avoid waking up someone who probably feels the same as me.

Alone.

Alone and scared.

I keep banging on the door, until I feel a cold hand on my neck. Then another.

"Who are you?" the voice says to me, raspy. Angry. "Did Bill send you here?"

Choking, I cannot turn around and see whom it is I am being gripped by. My eyes tear, and I barely utter, "Bill? Who is Bill?"

"The crocodile. The doctors here, they tell me he's in my head. But he's not. He's not. He's there. And sometimes, even though they give me pills and things, I still see him in my sleep or in the room when everyone else goes to bed. I pretend I don't, but I do. Bill tells me that they're brainwashing me. They're brainwashing _us_. They want us to see everything _their_ way. But Bill says that their way is wrong. And I have to listen to Bill. He's saved my life."

He lets go of me, and I turn around to the boy that had once been sleeping. His brownish-blonde hair falls in his face, but I can tell he's crying.

I can't respond. I don't know what to say. I open my mouth, but cannot utter a thing to him. He continues crying, and I feel horrible. I don't know where I am, but I know where I want to be: anywhere but here.

"Bill. I know he's real."

"I'm … I'm really sorry."

He embraces me, pulling me into a tight, uncomfortable hug, and confusion overwhelms me. Where am I? I can't be… I can't be…

The door handle jingles, as I would assume someone putters around with a key. The door opens, and in walks a familiar face. My eyes blur a little, my head is pounding, but I make the face out. Dr. Hyde.

"Hello, Zander. I'm glad to see you're making friends."

The boy lets go, running back to his bed and hiding under the covers. I rub my eyes to make sure this is real, not just a dream.

"I see you're a little confused."

"Kind of!" I screech, both confused and annoyed.

"You're at Blessed Heart."

"The hospital?"

"Yes, the hospital."

I shake my head, unable to comprehend, my head pounding, the worst pain I've ever felt. It must be the pills. "But… but why?"

Dr. Hyde smiles at me, his typical knowing smile. "Because early this morning, your little brother got up to use the bathroom, but instead, he caught sight of you, passed out, on the floor. Would you like to tell me what happened?"

The psychiatric ward. For attempted suicide. The memories crash down upon me. I've never felt so low. I just wanted all the pain to end. "I just… I just couldn't handle it anymore."

"And what is _it_?"

"Go!" the boy screams from under his sheets. "Go! He's trying to kill you. He wants me to kill you both!"

"Nelson," Dr. Hyde articulates. "Did you take your medicine yet?"

"Ye- No."

He hits a red button on the side of Nelson's bed. Almost instantly, a nurse rushes in. She's middle-aged but chipper, even this early in the morning.

"What do you need, boys?" she asks pleasantly. I notice that her entire outfit is white. White, sensible sneakers, white scrubs, small, white hat.

The color white is making me nauseous. Or maybe it's the pills again.

Dr. Hyde explains, "Nelson here has not taken his medication yet."

"Which is?"

"Risperdal."

"Right away," she calls, leaving us once again.

"Come with me, Mr. Robbins," Dr. Hyde says, leading me out the door. "I have a lot to explain to you."

* * *

Dr. Hyde takes me on a tour around the hospital.

"This is the meal room. The food isn't bad, or so I hear." He winks at me, and I want to punch him. He doesn't know what it's like to be here. He has no right giving me lessons on what to eat and what not to eat.

The meal room is pretty filled, with people piling high trays of pancakes and waffles. The food smells pretty good, but it could be because I haven't eaten in a long time, probably two days, at least. My stomach grumbles.

"Hungry?"

"No," I lie.

"You should eat, Zander. You have nothing in it now that they pumped your stomach."

_They pumped my stomach? Why'd they do that for? I didn't… Oh, right. The pills. _

He pats my head fatherly. It feels uncomfortable; I can't remember the last time anyone, especially my father, tapped my head like that. It's likely never. "If you eat, you can participate in the group activities."

I really do not want to participate in the group activities. So I told him that.

"You're missing out, son," he clasps his hand upon my shoulder. "It's really quite something special."

Something special. Special like me. Special like everyone here. We're here because we're special, different. We're weak, really. We can't handle ourselves; we're not independent. We're here because through all the world's problems, we couldn't handle it. We gave up. Or we tried.

But I couldn't say this to him. Instead, I nod. "I'm sure."

Dr. Hyde shows me around. He shows me where the phone is, the showers, and the recreational room. There's another room, with a couch and two chairs and a coffee table in it. That's for meetings, like with Janet or my family.

My family. I wonder how they've taken the news.

"Your mother is coming with your brother later on today with your things," Dr. Hyde tells me, as though he's reading my mind.

"How long am I staying for?" I question.

"Until you've improved."

Improved. "When will that be?"

"We'll have to find out. You have a four-day minimum. After that, it's up to Janet and myself."

He shows me back to my room, which I share with a boy by the name of Nelson Baxter. He's 16, just as I am.

"Who's Bill?" I ask Dr. Hyde before I walk inside.

"Bill is an imaginary friend of Nelson's. Ignore it as best as you can. Try and convince him that Bill isn't real, if possible."

"Is Nelson…"

"Schizophrenic? Yes. Yes he is."

Schizophrenic. Holy crap. My roommate is a schizophrenic. Back at school, I would laugh at things like that. I had no idea it's _real_, that people are actually affected, that it's actually as scary as people claim.

Suddenly, I'm scared for him, for myself. Who knows what'll happen when we're alone together.

"Just… do the best you can here, Zander. And get something to eat."

He walks away, the typical, fast, doctor stroll. He's busy, I'm sure he is. But I have yet so many unanswered questions.

But maybe that's the point. Maybe he can't answer everything for me. Maybe there are some things I need to answer for myself.

* * *

I opt to head towards the cafeteria, scared of Nelson. I should have asked him to come with me. I sure could've used a friend. But I didn't. I walk alone to the cafeteria.

I stand on line, not socializing with the people around me. I have no idea what their problems are. I don't want to know, either. I just want to "improve" and leave. I don't want attachments.

_Why oh why did I swallow all those pills? _

I grab a box of cereal. One of those small, travel-sized type. Froot Loops. My favorite cereal as a child. I'd have it every morning before school, even though my father always complained that it had too much sugar. My mom didn't care. She knew it was my favorite, so she'd buy it anyway, even if we'd have to hide it in the back of the pantry so my dad wouldn't find it.

I put milk on my tray as well, as well as a bowl and spoon. Looking around the hospital, I see a group of people I've never seen before. Some look angry. Some, threatening. But none of them look approachable.

I search for a separate table, one away from everyone else. Unfortunately, there are no open tables.

My eyes glance slightly at two girls. On first glance, they're both attractive girls, beautiful even. One has long, blonde hair and the other, wavy, brown hair. However, at second glance, I notice something strange about them.

The brunette has awfully swollen cheeks. Her face is bloated, but her skin looks thin, as though she's just thrown up. Her eyes look as though they are popping out of her head.

The girl with the blonde hair looks unhealthy too, but in a different way. Her skin was almost yellowish, and her hair looks at though it had once been beautiful and luscious, but is now brittle. She appears as though she is in pain just trying to complete the conversation she is having with the other girl, as though her own life is taking too much out of her. She has nothing in front of her, no tray, besides a tall glass of ice water and a spoon.

They both look fragile, weak, sad. In a way, I feel almost bad for them. And I would've sat with them, because they're about my age, but then they look at me. Their bloodshot eyes, with their dark under eye circles, their pouted faces, their thin frames, make me rethink that decision. I stumble, walking away, their stone cold glances drilling into the back of my neck.

I skim the room, trying to decide whom to sit with. There are several tables of young children, and maybe I could sit with them. Still, they seem almost strange, their eyes more mature than mine, as if they have been here their entire lives. As if they have already decided that they have no futures, as though they already coped with the fact that they have already screwed up their entire lives. And that scares me.

I catch a glance at a table with a boy and two girls about my age and, without further hesitation, walk over and sit down with them.

"And you are?" the boy asks, emotionless. I raise an eyebrow, but he just makes a face, as though he's waiting for me to answer.

"I'm Zander," I smile confidently.

He looks at me, waiting for me to continue. "Why are you here?"

"Uh…" I stutter, confused. "It's kinda personal."

"So?" he says, chewing his food with his mouth open. "Tell me."

"No."

"You want to fight with me?" he screams.

"No!" I shout back. "I don't even know you!"

"Ignore Kevin," one of the girls says. Her hair is black and curly, and she's smiling widely. Almost too smiley. She's actually shaking a little. Bouncing, actually. She's got to have some sort of addiction to like, crack. Why else would she be bouncing like that? "I'm Kacey Simon. I'm here because I'm bipolar."

"That's not why you're here," Kevin says, and he turns to me, his mouth still full, to clarify. "She's here because she had a manic episode. She went psycho-crazy on her friends, sorry, her _ex _friends. They dumped her because she got ugly."

"That's NOT TRUE, KEVIN!"

"That's entirely true, Kacey. Don't deny it."

"Well, at least I'm not here because I set fire to my school. And at least I have feelings…"

"Too many, really," Kevin mutters.

"And at least I'm not destined for lawbreaking and jail!"

Kacey gets up and stomps away, and seconds later, Kevin gets up and follows.

"They're basically in love, if you believe in that kind of crap. They may not act like it, but it's true," the girl across from me says, her first words spoken to me. The first thing I notice is her eyes. She has startling, beautiful, hazel-colored eyes and curly brown hair. On her head sits a gray-blue beanie. In a strange way, I find myself attracted to her, despite the pale pink scar she has running down her face. In her hands, she's holding _Catcher In The Rye. _One of my personal favorite books.

"I would never guess. What's your name, baby?" I ask flirtatiously, because I'm a boy and when I see a beautiful girl, I flirt with her.

"My _name_ is none of your damn business," she screeches, slapping me across the face. "What is your problem?"

"What is _my _problem? You just slapped me across the face." I hold where she slapped. Everyone's staring at us now, the little kids and the mean-looking girls. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you think you can just waltz in here and flirt with me? Like, who do you think you are? I'm not just your plaything. I have feelings. You don't know me, Zander."

She slaps my face again, and then storms away. At that point, I knew just one thing.

I've never been more turned on in my entire life.

* * *

"Zander, honey! I've been so worried about you! I've missed you so much! How has everything been? Are they nice to you here?"

"Mom, I'm fine," I say, slightly embarrassed. We're not in the private room, and people are watching me, giggling to themselves.

"I'm so happy!" she smiles, kissing the top of my head once, then twice. I notice the tears in the corners of her eyes begin to fall one at a time, silently. "I brought your toiletries and clothing. Don't forget to brush your teeth and remember to call me if you need _anything _at all."

"I will."

"And Zander, honey?"

"Yes?"

She leans up to me and presses her lips to my cheek. She then whispers in my ear, "I love you very much, honey. So, so, so, so, _so_ much. I'm glad you weren't taken from me yesterday. You weren't ripped from my palms, stolen away. When you come back home, we'll have a better relationship, we'll talk about everything. I love you. I love you!"

I look down, ashamed to ask, but I must. "Did you bring my…"

"No instruments allowed," she frowns at me, still crying. "But Dr. Hyde says they have some in the recreational room."

She's wailing now, crying harder every second, getting louder and harder to understand. I don't know why, but the music thing really tipped her off.

"Mom…" I whisper. "Do you want to go into the private room?"

She doesn't answer me, instead speaking more to herself. "I've failed as a mother. I've failed at raising my beautiful son."

"Mom…"

"You must've felt pretty hopeless," my younger brother, Jack, says.

"I've been feeling hopeless a lot, actually, Jack," I reply honestly, which only makes my mother cry harder.

He sighs, "I can't believe I never realized how selfish you are."

The entire hospital turns to look at my brother and I. For once, everything seems completely silence, like all the chaos had ended.

"Selfish?" I manage, taken aback by my younger brother's sudden allegation. Other people feel the same, completely stopping their activities just to hear my six-year-old brother accuse me of thinking only of myself.

"Yeah. I mean, think about it. I'm six. You didn't think about how it would affect me in the long run, did you? And what about mom? You wanted to kill yourself to make life better for you. What about mom? She's heartbroken and you didn't even succeed!"

"Excuse me?" I ask, stunned.

"You failed again. I mean, seriously, Zander. You can't even kill yourself right. You're really pathetic."

"Jack," my mother finally says. "It's time to go. Say goodbye to your brother."

"Is this for good this time?" he questions.

Horrified, my mother takes his hand and pulls him out of the psychiatric ward. "I love you very much, Zander. Call me when you can."

I continue to stand, shocked by my brother's offensive mouth. But what can I do now? What's said is said, and if that's what he thinks of me, then so be it. I can't change anything besides myself, if I'm even worth changing.

* * *

Walking back to my room, Jack's words still ring in my ears.

_You're really pathetic. You can't even kill yourself right. _

He's right. He's always right. He's six years old, but he's smarter than I am, smarter than I could ever wish to be. He's right. Of all the things that I've failed at in life, schoolwork, relationships, decision-making, I've even failed at the one thing that you almost _can't_ fail at – death.

Entering my room, I am face-to-face with not only Nelson, but also two of the kids I sat with at breakfast, Kacey and Kevin.

"Oh. It's that kid who didn't think we were good enough to know why he's here," Kevin says drily when he catches sight of me.

"My name is Zander. And, dude, please? Can we move on from that?" I ask, slightly annoyed. "It's really not important."

"Everybody here knows everything about one another," Nelson explains to me. I notice that he sounds normal, even nerdy, like a typical kid would, when he's not talking about Bill, when he's not in one of those hallucinating, paranoia sort of things. I wonder how many other kids are schizophrenic, and how many kids are hiding that fact from their parents. Is it even possible to? They must know… I hid my depression for a while, but I finally admitted it. I had to. You can't hide things forever – eventually, they all come out. "It's like high school, but worse, because these are the kinds of problems that you don't want people to know you have."

"Like everyone here knows that Nelson is in love with Grace," Kacey jokes.

"NOT TRUE!"

"Who's Grace?" I wonder aloud.

"You don't know who Grace is?" Kevin questions. "Are you _stupid_ or something?"

"I don't think so…" I reply.

"You've been here how long and you haven't heard of the Perfs?" Nelson inquires.

"Since I guess early this morning?"

"Wow." Kevin turns to Nelson. "He must be really fucking dumb. That's why he's here, guys. Because he's fucking retarded."

"Kevin, stop," Kacey orders. "That's not very nice."

"The world isn't nice, baby cakes. You gotta get used to that."

"Can someone just tell me who the Perfs are?" I ask, and they all stare at me.

"They were at breakfast with us," Kacey says softly. "You didn't see them?"

_The Perfs? _I think back to breakfast. _I didn't see anyone that could be considered a "Perf", right? Just a table of little kids and other tables of… _

My memory shot back to the swollen-faced girls with the cold glares.

"Were they the girls who didn't eat? The ones with the sunken faces and evil stares?"

"Yup!" Kacey cheers, excitedly. "That's them. I used to be one of them, but I'm not anymore. I ditched them."

"No you didn't." Kevin stares at her, a cold look on his face. "They ditched you when they found out…"

"Unimportant!" Kacey cuts him off.

"Grace is the blonde one, the prettier one," Nelson informs me. "Even Bill thinks she's pretty."

Before I ask who Bill is, I remember. Bill the crocodile. Nelson was so close to convincing me that he was a normal kid. But I guess none of us are normal. So instead, I grin. "I hope it works out, buddy. Why are they…"

"Eating disorders," Kevin answers me before I finish asking the question. "Grace is an anorexic and Molly, the brunette chick, is bulimic. That's why they look like that."

Nelson frowns at me, "Sadly, even though they're in the hospital, they barely eat. It takes time to heal disorders like that. But I think I could heal Grace."

Kevin snickers, and Nelson shoots him a look.

"I think I could! She'd eat for me. I'd tell her to eat and she'd eat. She'd eat because she loves me and she does things for people who she loves! She loves me! I don't know why she's doing that to herself! She should love me! She should eat because she should love me! She should! Why doesn't she love me? Why? I am a nice person! People like me! My mom tells me all the time that I'm special! Why doesn't Grace eat? Why doesn't… why… why?"

I watch Nelson slowly break down in front of our eyes. He crawls under his covers and rocks slowly, in fetal position. In health class, we learned that schizophrenics have trouble explaining their ideas and viewpoints. I see this clearly now in Nelson. In class, I would've laughed along with Greg and Maria and the other kids. Now, I pity the kid.

_You can't even kill yourself right. You're really pathetic. _

The words again echo in my head, but I ignore them. I'm surviving. That's what matters.

"Where's Stevie?" Kevin asks suddenly. "Where did our little scarred friend run off to?"

"She told me some douche tried to start problems with her during breakfast," Kacey updates us.

"Who's Stevie?" I ask.

Kevin rolls his eyes. "I swear, this kid is fucking retarded. She fucking _ate _with us."

I say aloud, though more to myself, "She's the girl with the…"

"Scars?"

"I was going to say book. The _Catcher In The Rye_ book."

Kevin shoots me a dumb look. "Don't lie and say you didn't notice her scars. That's all anyone sees when they look at her."

"I mean…" I feel nervous under the pressure Kevin is bestowing upon me. "It's not like I _didn't _notice them. It's just like… I noticed other things too. Other things _first_."

"Like what?" Kevin sneers. "I doubt you noticed something else. What'd you notice, Romeo? Her eye color?"

"Hazel," I reply instantly.

"Aw!" Kacey holds her hand to her heart. "How romantic!"

"Impressive," Kevin says, clapping, though I'm pretty sure it's sarcastic.

I smile proudly, before stopping. "Wait, romantic?"

"Well, you knew her eye color," Kacey sighs. "It's so _Monster In Law_!"

"What?" Kevin, Nelson and I all say in unison.

"Haven't you dweebs seen _Monster In Law_?"

We all shake our heads.

"Oh. Well, in the one scene, Jennifer Lopez as Charlie, asks Kevin what colors her eyes are. Right?"

"Yeah, I'm bored already," Kevin interrupts Kacey. "Hey Nelson, do you want to go see if the video gaming system is empty?"

"Furious Pigeons?"

"Definitely."

So they left. Kacey turns back to me.

"And then Kevin replies, 'Well, at first glance your eyes are brown. But when the light hits them, they change to amber. And if you look really close around the iris, the color is pure honey. But when you look into the sun, they almost look green. That's my favorite.' Ahh! It's so romantic! I die every time I watch it. Like, I literally melt. His voice! Ahhh!"

"So what are you implying?"

"That you're like Dr. Kevin Fields! You noticed something that people barely notice about Stevie because they're too busy looking at her scars. Which means that you like her, which means you two should fall in love and get married and let me plan your wedding!"

"I don't think so, Kacey."

"Just think about it. You'd have the cutest babies in the entire world!"

Before I could respond, she pulls me into a hug, a tight, slightly painful hug.

"Okay… Kacey…"

"Hey! Zander!" I hear a voice call from the doorway, and I turn my head to face the door, Kacey's arms still wrapped around my neck. "Keep your hands off my lady and no one gets hurt."

Instantly, I release, as does she.

"That's better."

Kacey rolls her eyes. "Kevin, you're overreacting."

"You know a lot about overreacting, don't you, _bipolar_?" He walks in, and stands awfully close to Kacey. I can tell they're about to fight.

"YOU DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!" She wags her finger in his face. "You do NOT talk to me like that!"

I walk out just as the fight is beginning to get heated. I know that this doesn't just involve me anymore, that it involves deeper issues like their own insecurities and troubles. I'm not one to get involved in fights that don't involve me.

* * *

Walking out into the hallway, Nelson appears to be gone too. I wonder where he had gone off to.

I try to remember, but the pills are making it quite hard to do so. My head is pounding and I feel like any moment, I'm about to black out.

The rec room. That's where Nelson will be. That's where there's a television, where they'll find video games.

Slowly walking towards the rec room, which I remember being… Where do I remember it being? Fucking pills.

I continue walking down pathways that I vaguely remember from my tour with Dr. Hyde. [I should've paid closer attention]. But I cannot. I'm walking in circles, or what it seems.

My head is whirling, the room is spinning, and…

"Are you alright?" I hear a voice say as my eyes begin to close. "Hello?"

The voice is sweet and I remember it from somewhere. But where?

"Holy shit. What the… I… I need you to stand up for me. Stay standing! We need some help. Do you… do you want water? Oh my God! Pinch yourself. Please! Just pinch yourself! I need to find you somewhere to stand."

I don't pinch myself. My body is barely functioning, and I feel as though I'm paralyzed. Aren't doctors supposed to get the pills out of your system?

"You're fine. You're fine. Just… pinch yourself. PINCH YOURSELF! Fuck! I'm losing you. I'm losing you."

Then I feel a sharp pain and my eyes shoot open. I couldn't see much, as my vision was splotchy, but I am able to steady myself on the wall I'm leaning against.

The voice helps me sit down on something soft – a couch, perhaps?

And that's all I remember.

* * *

I wake up to hear a voice, the same voice, singing to me. Or maybe not to me, but around me.

"I found out finding out isn't the worst part. / Don't believe it's just me. / And I've found out. / Do you really even have a clue? / You're not quite Satan but I really think I hate you."

I open my eyes and slowly, my eyes begin to work again. I see a girl, the same girl from earlier today, at breakfast. Stevie. That's her name. Or that's what Kevin called her. Is that her name?

Her back is to me, and I see now that's she's strumming on some sort of stringed instrument. A bass. A guitar wouldn't make a sound like that.

"Fuck," she mutters to herself. "I suck."

"I liked it," I say, and she jumps.

"You scared me."

"Sorry."

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. Are you… are you fine too?"

I smile. "Yeah. Thanks. Sorry about that."

"Please, stop apologizing. It was nothing."

"You saved my life."

"No. I saved you from hitting the ground. It was nothing."

She turns away from me, and continues to strum on her bass.

"You're really talented. What's that called?"

"Nothing. It's nothing. It's not called anything."

"Did you write it yourself?"

"No. Well, yes, but… You never heard it. Don't tell anyone about it. I don't…"

"You don't?"

She looks down, maybe out of shyness or embarrassment. I'm not sure. For some reason, I find it cute. "I don't want them to worry."

I go and sit next to her. "Why would they worry?"

She pauses for a moment, and then her expression turns hard. "It's really none of your business. Now that you're okay, you are welcome to leave."

"And I'm welcome to stay."

"Fine. But don't bother me. Now that you know anyway."

"What do I know?"

"That I… That I sing."

"Beautifully."

There's silence, and I sense her anger building up. I feel as though she's about to swing at me, hit me. Again.

Instead, she mumbles, "Thanks."

"Where's everyone else?" I ask, noting the empty hallway. The door is open, but the hospital seems quiet, empty, besides Stevie and myself.

"It's activity time."

"Why aren't you at activities?"

"I didn't eat lunch."

"Why not?"

She sighs. "I wasn't hungry."

"Is that why you're here?"

"No. I'm here because I don't really like activities. They… they're kind of degrading."

"How so?"

"Well, today is noodle artwork. To send home to our families and loved ones, or to hang in our rooms."

I laugh. "And that's degrading because?"

"I'm not four years old. Yet they make me make macaroni art. It's… like they assume that just because we've got problems… that we're dumb."

"And you're _not_ dumb. "

"Well, I didn't think I was. This place is making me reconsider everything that I once held to be true. Like religion."

I nod, agreeing with her. "If religion were real, then why are there people like us, people who are alone and depressed and…"

"Confused. Evil. Damned."

"Yeah."

She smiles at me. "I take it you're depressed?"

"Is it obvious?"

"Nah. Bet you can guess what's wrong with me."

"Depressed too?"

"Nope. I'm borderline. As in, you know, those obsessively clingy girls. The crazy, irrational, psychotic ones. Or so they say. But I did… I did… I did… _cut myself_. Did you attempt suicide too?"

"Yeah. I swallowed a bunch of pills."

"That explains the passing out. Why did you attempt?"

"I… I just felt fed up, like I couldn't handle anything anymore."

"I know that feeling."

"Why did you?"

She smiles at me, a sad but sweet smile, and I can tell that she doesn't want to answer that.

"I'm sorry. If you don't want to talk about it…" I say.

"I don't."

"Okay. That's fine."

"It's really nice talking to you, Zander." She looks back down at her bass, and begins to strum again; this time, different chords.

"You too, Stevie."

She puts her bass down again, just for a moment, as if in pure shock. "You know my name?"

"Of course." I walk out the door, but linger in the hallway, just far enough away that she doesn't see me but close enough to hear her begin to sing again.

This time, it's a different song. Not really a song. Just two lines. Two lines that took the place of Jack's in my head, replaying over and over.

"And it was enchanting to meet you. / All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you."

I beam from outside the door. And although she changes back almost instantly to another song, another _angry_ song, I still beam. I know, or at least I hope, that those two lines were about me.

* * *

**Okay, so the songs used in this were "Both Sides of the Story" by We Are The In Crowd [a personal favorite band - go check them out if you'd like! I recommend them!] and "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift. [I love TSwift to death . Is it true she's dating Harry Styles from One Direction?] **

**I really hope you guys enjoyed! I'm gonna try and start responding to your reviews at the beginning of my story, if you guys write me interesting stuff. Ask questions, tell me about your problems, I'm all ears! Love you! **

**Please tell me what you think by read/fave/review ! It actually means more to me than anything ever in the world. **

**I do this for youuuuu! Because you're so beautiful! (: 3 **


	3. Day 2

**Hello, hello! Thanks for reading, favoriting [this is not a word] and reviewing! It means so so so much to me. **

**I don't think a lot of you read this, but I'm going to try once again to say that what I say in this story are not necessarily my beliefs and I don't mean to offend anyone's religion or in any other way offend someone. If you are touchy about certain subjects like that PLEASE DON'T READ! I don't want you guys to be upset. **

**Now, because I feel like I should answer some of my reviewers. Sometimes, I send personal messages, but I feel that these problems need to be addressed because people may have the same problems. So... **

**coolcool02, I really am impressed by the strength of your religious beliefs, but people ****_do_**** think differently. I mean, if you believe that about God, I'm happy for you. However, other people believe differently than you do. I'm not going to say what I believe because I don't think it is anyone's business, but there are many other religions in this world. Perhaps I am not Christian? I don't think that reading the Bible will help me at all if that were the case. Perhaps I am very religious and have the Bible memorized. I'm just doing the best I can to portray how I believe my OOC characters are feeling in this situation. I really do love that you're reading my story and that you like it, but keep in mind that the story is not meant to persuade you to feel any way nor does it in any way reflect my religious preferences. And don't worry! I was not offended by your review (:. I hope you're not either! I'm just trying to explain my reasoning for making perhaps sacrilegious comments in my story! **

**Vamplove218, thank you! :D I am super thrilled you like my story! To respond to the "being anorexic / bulimic makes you perfect" part, I do not believe that at all! I am very, very close with several people who struggle with those disorders, and I know the challenges that it brings. I made Molly and Grace those specific disorders because I felt that it suited them the best. I know that people with self-esteem issues often develop eating disorders and I figured that maybe their low self-esteem is the reason that they are so mean, Molly especially, since Grace really is not that mean. However, Grace tends to do [well, sometimes] what Molly does, and so, thus, the dual eating disorders were born. Zander's depression is something that he thinks about the whole story, this chapter especially, as he is not entirely sure why he is depressed, or even if he is at all. Also, I didn't want to make it all too sad a story - I want a happy ending and I definitely don't want people to cry while reading it... too much! (: As for continuing, anything for you, my love! **

**Peacelovewriting32, I find Kevin über funny too. Personal favorite character? He has the guts to say what no one else does. He's so much fun to write as. This chapter, you get to see the reason he's the way he is. By the way, I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! (: **

**Hoaluvpatrome567, so happy that you loved it! Hope you love this update too ! (: **

**Libba The Amazing, thank you, my love! (: I hope you love the rest of the story too!**

**Taylor, thank you so much for your review although you don't have an account! It means so much to me! (: I hope maybe you make an account one day, but until then, I'm glad that you're reviewing despite your inability to favorite! **

**So glad we cleared that all up! Love you all and I appreciate your kind words and reviews! You guys are the reason I keep writing! (: So... on with the story? **

**A/N: I do not own How To Rock, any of the songs used,****_ The Catcher In The Rye_****, or the novel that this story is loosely based on. **

* * *

Day 2:

"Have you used the phones yet?" I ask Nelson, who is seated on his bed beside me. We're watching our little television together, some cartoon that Nelson seems to enjoy but I've never seen.

"Nope!"

"How long have you been here?"

"23 days and counting."

"Don't you have any desire to call your parents?"

"Well, my mom comes and visits every Sunday, so you'll see her, um, _TOMORROW_!"

"What about your dad?"

His expression changes to one of almost _fear_, and I silently kick myself for asking. He obviously has family troubles that I don't know about and that I shouldn't have asked about.

"That _man_ is in jail."

My usual nosy self, I have the desire to learn why. "Oh…"

"You probably want to know why."

I nod gradually, hesitantly.

"He… he sexually abused me as a child."

"I'm… I'm so sorry."

"No, it's fine. I mean, you'd find out eventually. Why not let _me_ tell you?"

"I'm really, really sorry, Nelson."

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

I look at him, his eyes fixated on the television. I can tell he's upset, but he won't admit that to himself or to me. He looks as though he's holding back tears. But he's trying to be strong. For me. For himself. For someone.

"I'm really, really sorry to have brought it up. It was none of my business."

"It's fine. Stevie told me you're depressed. I guess we're even."

"Did she mention why?"

"She says she doesn't know why."

I look out the window at the busy people beneath. "Yeah. Me neither."

* * *

Standing in the bathroom mirror, I glance in at myself.

"Why are you here?" I ask myself aloud.

"Are you talking to yourself?" a voice asks. The voice is cold, angry. Kevin.

"Hey Kevin." He walks into the room. "Thanks for the privacy."

"Don't tell me you're schizo too. We've got enough dealing with Nelson and his stupid alligator."

"Crocodile," I reply, almost by impulse. Kevin gives me a strange look and I say, almost nervously, "Bill's a… crocodile."

Rolling his eyes, he groans, "I cared."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Why are you…"

He cuts me off. "I'm diagnosed as antisocial personality disorder. I set fire to my school because…"

"No," I stop him. "Why are you like _that_?"

Giving me a face, he admits, "I'm confused."

"Like, do you have… family problems?"

"Who the _fuck_ doesn't?" he laughs. I don't. I'm beginning to think more and more that I'm pathetic. He continues, noticing how serious I am acting. I'm not really in the laughing mood. "I watched my dad murder my sister when I was three. Strangled her. Two years later, he killed my mother. With a kitchen knife. That sort of thing… it traumatizes a kid."

"Oh my God…" I gasp. "How could he…"

"He's antisocial too. He has no remorse or consideration for people's feelings, like me. He was physically abused as a kid; his mom and stepdad were both abusive, and I guess that made him like he is. Like he was. He's dead now. I'm in… _was_ in… foster care."

"But now you're here."

"Which is a _shit load_ better than foster care, I'll tell you that much."

Again, he laughs.

"You're depressed, right?"

"Stevie told you?"

Kevin nods slowly. "She did."

"I like how word travels."

"Dude, she didn't know it was a secret. Don't blame her."

"I didn't tell her to keep it one. I just figured she would."

"She doesn't keep anything from us, from her friends."

"So you know why she tried to…"

"Kill herself? Yes. But… I don't know. I don't really think I should be the one to tell you. It's a story for a different day, from a different person. She's really sensitive about it, and I respect that chick. She's been through shit."

"You all have."

"Damn straight we have. It's kind of the unspoken rule here. There's got to be something to make you the way you are. Family troubles is number one, second is relationships. Stevie's is both. Thank the fucking LORD that I'm only one."

"Yeah," I nod, barely thinking about the words he's saying as they hit me like a ton of bricks. Everyone here has severe problems somewhere in their life. They all have reasons. "Lucky you."

* * *

"Kacey," I say, sitting down at her table. She's sitting alone, reading some sort of magazine. "Can I ask you why you're like… _that_."

"Like _what?" _she snaps.

"Like… do you know what caused your bipolar?"

She retorts, "Bipolar doesn't tend to be caused by anything. It just happens."

"Oh," I sigh. "Well, can I ask you a somewhat personal question?"

"If you're asking me about my sex life, so help me, Zander…"

"No, no! I mean… Do you have family problems? Like Kevin and Nelson both do and I'm pretty sure Stevie does and…"

She cuts me off. "Well, doesn't everyone? No family these days are perfect."

"But… do you find yours especially horrifying?"

"I… I guess. But mostly because I hate my mom."

"Why?"

She shrugs, which makes me question the next words out of her mouth. "She's a whore."

I spit out the coffee I was drinking. "What?"

"My mother shoots up some heroin in her arm and then runs away for weeks at a time, coming home with ripped fishnets and a wad of cash."

I don't respond, trying to process the information that Kacey is giving me. Does that mean…

Kacey laughs at my confused face. "My mother is a prostitute, Zander. She roams the streets looking for desperate guys and then she bones them for money. She leaves me home alone for weeks at a time, and it's all because she got involved with all those drugs. You know that she used when pregnant with me?"

"I… I didn't."

"Yeah. She did. And she doesn't even know who my father is. She has suspicions, but no actual clue. It's whatever. I'm fine on my own."

I pity the girl in front of me. She's shrugging and acting like everything's fine, as if she's used to that from her mother, as though she expects nothing more from her. "But you're not alone, Kacey. You're here."

"Well, now I am. But I wasn't always."

"Well, you're here now. That's what matters."

"I guess so."

That's what matters for me, too. I'm here now. It doesn't matter what I've been through, what I've done, why I'm like this. All that matters is that, here and now, I'm where I am. I'm getting the help that I so desperately need.

* * *

Still, two hours later, I pace back and forth in the private room, uttering to Janet, "I don't even know why I'm here."

"You're getting the help you need, Zander."

"But why do I need help?"

"You're special."

"No. I'm not special. I'm average. I have no reason to be upset. Do you hear other stories about other kids dealing with problems far worse than mine? Nelson got raped! Kacey's mom whores around! Kevin watched his dad kill his family! I don't know what happened with Stevie, but I'm pretty sure it's way worse than what happened to me! Why am I here? Why am I depressed? Why do I complain about my life when I have nothing to complain about?"

"Zander, everyone has reasons to be upset. Nobody's life is perfect, but nobody's life is unlivable. Sure, everyone has reasons to be upset, but everyone has reasons to be happy too. It's that balance between good and evil that keeps people functioning, sane, even."

I nod, but I'm hardly listening. I stare down at my shoes. "I have nothing, no reason to be depressed."

"Well, what kind of things made you feel like life is unlivable previously?" Janet taps her clipboard. I hate that clipboard.

"I… I don't know. I guess Maria. Her devotion to Greg."

"How long have you loved Maria?"

"Since… since Greg introduced me to her. I always thought she'd be snobbish and girly, but she wasn't. She was able to sit and pass the time with us as we watched sports, shared a joint, you know?"

"Shared a joint?"

"No. Not joint. I meant… a coke? Yeah. A coke."

"It's alright if you substance abused, Zander. I won't tell your parents. As long as you do not do so again. Drugs like that lead to depression."

I look at her for a moment. I didn't substance abuse. I occasionally smoked weed with my friends. It's hardly a crime. I want so badly to say that. Instead, I mumble, "Thanks."

"Before you mentioned some names. Tell me about them."

"I mentioned names?"

"Nelson, Casey, Kevin, Steven…"

"Oh. They're my friends here."

"Tell me about them."

"Well, Nelson's my roommate. He's schizophrenic, and at first, I thought he was a little weird. He came behind me and like pulled me back. I thought I was a goner, for sure. Or maybe that he's ridiculous, you know? Crazy. But I got to know him a little better and I feel really bad for him, you know? He's actually pretty cool."

"I'm glad you got to know him. Who else?"

"I sat with Kevin, Kacey and Stevie at breakfast the first day. Kevin was really blunt and kinda mean, but I kept sitting with them because I had nowhere else to go. I'm happy I did. He's cool too. He's a little bit cruel but I mean, who isn't? He's gone through a lot. Kacey is I guess his girlfriend. They fight all the time. She was all bubbly and stuff, mostly, but sometimes she gets feisty. She doesn't like to get walked on. It's pretty interesting."

"And what about Steven? What's he like?"

"Stevie. Stevie's a girl. She's… she's great."

"Ah, I see. What does she do?"

"Well, the first day I met her, she slapped me."

"Why?"

I look down, ashamed. "I… flirted with her."

"Why'd you do that?" Janet looks at me from above her clipboard, her small glasses perched at the tip of her nose, her black pen in hand, ready to write.

"I… wanted to?"

"You said that as though it were a question. Why did you question that? Did you want to, or did you not?"

"I don't know. She's pretty and nice and seemed really deep. I mean, she was reading _Catcher In The Rye_, which is one of my favorite books."

"I can't help but notice that you keep saying that you don't know things. Why is that?"

"I didn't know the right answer.

"Why?"

I pursed my lips before replying. "Because the right answer isn't always right there in front of you. Sometimes you have to search for it, look around, learn things before you know it. It doesn't always come easy."

* * *

At one in the afternoon, I again catch Stevie in the rec room, hiding once more from activities.

I ate lunch, but opted to sit out from activities, complaining of a slight headache. After two [monitored] Advil and a glass of cold ice water, some nurses left to go on lunch break and others, to join activities with the other patients.

Now, I watch Stevie from the door, strumming her bass and humming notes to a new song, one I haven't heard.

"This isn't me, and I hate what we've become. / This isn't my life, and I don't know where it went wrong."

I don't say a word, simply listening from the doorway quietly, waiting for her to continue but she doesn't. Instead, she turns around.

"I knew you were here."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I felt a presence. You know? Besides my own."

I crinkle my eyebrows, not understanding her one bit. I've never "felt a presence." Not that I remember, anyway.

Stevie shrugs. "Guess it's just a borderline thing. I can feel others. Whatever. I'm glad you're here."

She's glad to see me? "Why?"

"Word on the street is that you're quite a talented singer."

I feel a blush rising up my cheeks. I've never told anyone about my singing. I never really thought it was good. Sure, as a kid, I'd put on musical productions for my family, but what kid didn't? It wasn't like I'd be a famous singer one day. I'm going to medical school to be a doctor. That's what my parents want. Well, what my dad wants. I'd do anything to keep him happy. "Who said?"

"Nelson said he heard you in the shower."

"Everyone's good in the shower."

Stevie shoots me a goofy grin. "Don't be modest."

"I mean…"

"You're amazing. Just, help me. Please."

I look at her big, sparkling eyes and can't help but agree. "Sure. Fine."

"So I have a song almost written, but, I… I need a guy's perspective. I feel like, for the song, it's about like a relationship gone wrong. And to add real depth and all that shit, I need, you know, a guy telling _his _side of the story."

I open my eyes widely. "That's incredible. And you thought of that yourself?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, there are two sides to every story. You can't just look at one. You need to see both sides. Like if he cheated on me… I… I mean, if the guy cheated on the girl, it's all fine and dandy to hear it from the girl, but maybe, maybe he had a reason besides just being a douche."

"Personal experience you'd like to share?"

"No. Ready?"

"Yeah."

Stevie closes her eyes and begins to sing. At that moment, it's like all her scars disappear, all her flaws and problems and everything. To me, she just looks like an angel. A beautiful, perfect angel. "If this is what you think is honest, / honestly, I think I'm going to freak out."

She looks to me, but continues strumming. It's weird listening to a bass instead of a guitar, but good-weird. Without second thought, I continue, singing, "This isn't where I wanna be, wanna be. / I think I'll let myself out."

"Show me the door, oh, 'cause I'm leaving the way I came in with the mess I made. / Tonight will be the one to set it off. / We had our nights on the town."

_She must've been happy back whenever this was._ Basing my response off that, I sing out, "Your eyes were smiling then."

"You left me hanging around with all your wack friends."

I remember problems with my typical dates, and call them out now, in Stevie's song. "You don't take me serious."

"Boy, you make me furious."

"Guaranteed, we'll disagree."

"I found out finding out isn't the worst part. / Don't believe it's just me. / I found out…"

For some reason, I remember her line from before, and interrupt her line, singing, "Do you really even have a clue?"

"You're not quite Satan but I really think I hate you." She stops playing and turns to look at me. "That was incredible! Thank you so much!"

"You want to keep going?"

"I… I feel it's not right to make you continue…"

I cut her off. "I want to continue. I want to help."

"…without telling you the _whole_ story."

"Stevie, if you don't want to…"

Her bright eyes look at me, and I see tears beginning to form in them. "No. I do. Sit down."

She pats the spot beside her on the couch, which I immediately take.

"You see, I dated this guy who I went to school with. Justin. His name was Justin Cole. We dated for a while, and I felt really happy with him. Secure. I understand I have problems, that… that are hard for other people to deal with. I'm borderline. I have trouble trusting people, but I get really, really attached to people once I finally do. I tell them everything. So I told Justin everything, everything about my family problems… Damn. I guess I should confess my family problems to you…" She pauses, letting a few tears fall down her face. I have the urge to wipe them away from her face, but I resist. Using a random blanket, she wipes away her own tears.

I rest my hand on her shoulder. It feels comfortable, not awkward like it would be with anyone else. "Stevie, it's okay. I can tell this is hard for you."

"It's… it's fine. I'm… I'm not feeble. I'm not, like, some weak little girl. I can handle myself."

I don't respond. I want her to go on, to be comfortable telling me this, to move on from it. But I don't say a word. I don't want to pressure her.

"Anyway, as I was saying, I, obviously have family troubles. I… I think I'm borderline because at seven years old, I watched my parents go through the nastiest divorce ever. My… my dad's an alcoholic, but he won't go to rehab or anything because of it. He thinks he's fine. My mom kinda grew tired of him cheating on her and blowing all our money on, you know, booze. So she divorced him. Alcohol changed him though. He got so mad about it and he like, yelled and screamed and threw things at her. And at me. He's still like that. He's like, this crazy alcoholic now. And he hates me. He hates us both. I… I like to think that maybe it's not _me _he hates, but maybe the fact that I remind him of happiness, you know? The happiness that he used to have when he was married to my mom, the happiness that he ruined because he went out and cheated on my mom and stuff."

I wrap my arm around her and pull her into my chest. She's crying harder now, and I feel like crying myself. I've never really had it bad at all. I've had the perfect life all along.

"And my mom is really distraught over everything that happened. She's turned like, unstable. She takes all these random pills and splurges on random things and makes irrational decisions, completely spur of the moment. It's bad things, usually. Like, you know, cutting off all her hair with a bread knife or inviting all these bad people into our house. She's really snapped. And I think I'm too much for her to handle. She can't even handle herself. That's a reason why… why I tried to end everything early."

Pulling her even closer to me, I rub her arm protectively, as though it's my job to protect her.

"My parent's divorce is probably why I have attachment issues. And Justin knew all that. I told him everything. I guess because he knew it, that he used it against me."

She stops crying, looking up at me. Her expression turns from a sad one to one of anger.

"He played me. He brainwashed me into doing anything he wanted. He threatened to leave me if I didn't, and that scared me. Everyone in my life had left me. I couldn't take any chances. So I let myself be… taken advantage of. I hate myself for it."

"Stevie," I whisper softly, so she could barely hear it.

"He cheated on me, too. You'd think, because I gave him _everything_ he wanted that he wouldn't. But he did. Tons and _tons_ of chicks. I found out the hard way, catching him in the act. My heart broke that day, but he laughed. He told me that I should never have thought a rich, handsome guy like him would ever like a poor, crazy girl like me. He's right. I couldn't believe I fell for that."

The sound of sobs once again fills the entire room. Stevie cries into my chest, and I feel her tears through my shirt, her body shaking. It's like the tears seeping through cause me to feel her pain, and I turn her face up to my own.

"You're beautiful, Stevie. He's just an asshole."

She doesn't respond, but our eyes stay connected. The hold feels magnetic, as though I cannot turn away or else I'd be defying nature. We both begin to lean in, our lips slightly open. The distance between us closes from four inches, three inches, two, one. I move my lips to meet hers, but she turns away.

"They'll be back soon," she says, standing up and walking back to her bass. She slides it back into her case.

"I don't want them to be back."

She smiles at me, a devious smile. "Come with me."

* * *

Five minutes later, we're dressed in dark blue 'Blessed Heart Volunteer' shirts and khaki pants, running to the entrance the psychiatric ward before the nurses come back or anyone sees us.

"Come on," Stevie urges as she runs. She's one of the skinniest girls I've seen [besides the ones here with eating disorders] and far outruns me. Reaching her hand back, she pulls me after her, causing me to nearly stumble.

"Slow down," I whisper-shout, trying to control my laughter. "I can't keep up."

She pulls me through the entrance and out into the rest of the hospital.

"Follow me."

I obey her, tailing her every step.

She suddenly stops and turns around. I crash into her, and our bodies collide. She takes my hand in hers. Smiling widely at me, she inquires, "Ever wonder what it's like outside our little corner of the earth?"

"All the time." This is a slight lie. I've been in the psych ward for only two days now, and I've thought of what the rest of the hospital is like only once.

"Well, here we are."

The halls are faded white, the floor tiled blue. There are closed doors and signs everywhere. It looks just as one would expect a hospital to look. Every so often, someone in scrubs or a doctor in a suit passes, offering us a greeting, before passing by.

"I guess we fit in," I observe.

"I'm surprised. I've never fit in anywhere." Stevie touches her face, more specifically, her scar.

"You fit in here."

"Yeah," she whispers, though more to herself than to me. She closes her eyes. "I fit in here."

I take a step closer to her, grabbing her face with my hands and pulling her towards me. However, before our lips could meet, she opens her eyes and pulls away.

"I have something to show you."

Without giving me time to respond, Stevie pulls my hand along with her and starts to run. After almost knocking into a doctor, two nurses, a surgeon, and a man on crutches, she yanks me into the stairwell.

"This is… nice."

"Come on, you freak," she calls to me, already running up the stairs. "You're going to get lost without me."

I race after her. We must have scaled about fifteen flights of stairs before finally, she stops and walks to the side. Checking her surroundings and seeing no one, she turns to me, locks eyes and says, "Hurry! In here!"

I comply with her demands hesitantly. I'm slightly afraid of what could be up here. I've only known her for two days, and she's slapped me several times. Who's to say she doesn't want me dead?

_Didn't I want myself dead not too long ago? _

Stevie shoves me through the door, and then follows me herself. "Isn't it beautiful?"

I open my eyes tentatively and find myself on top of the hospital, looking down at the city in front of me.

"It's… it's amazing."

She comes beside me and wraps my arm around her. "I know."

"How did you find it?"

"I used to volunteer here, you know, before all my problems. Well, before I ended up here. I've always had problems."

I don't respond, but I look down at her and kiss the top of her head.

"I've never shown this to anyone."

"I'm glad you've showed me."

"I hope I won't regret it."

"You won't."

She looks up at me, her eyes fluttering a little. In this light, her face is illuminated in that her skin looks flawless, not a single imperfection. Although she always looks that way to me. Her perfect lips utter, "You can kiss me now."

So I do. I close the distance between us. Her soft, warm lips collide with my own and move together perfectly, as though they're meant to be there, together, forever.

It feels like an hour, but she pulls away, and turns back to the landscape of the busy city in front of us. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I've wanted to do that since I've met you." _I just never thought you'd ever let me, let alone tell me to. _

"We… we should get back."

She begins to walk, and I follow. After all, I'm too stunned to say anything else.

_I kissed a girl and I liked it. _

* * *

It's about five o'clock when I remember – the phone. I need to use the phone. Walking over to the public phone, I pass the cafeteria and glance inside. The brown-haired Perf sits inside the empty room, completely and totally alone, the only noise being her scraping her plate with a fork, shoveling food into her mouth. It's almost disgusting, but I can't tear myself away. She doesn't stop, continuing eating certainly past what an average person would eat. Finally, I turn away and walk. I hope she didn't catch me staring. .

Grabbing the available phone, I punch in Greg's phone number.

He answers on four rings. I can tell already that he's higher than anything.

"Yo yo yo!"

"Greg, it's Zander."

"Hey, my man. Where have ya been? I texted a bunch and called a fuck load. Shit, I'm high. Woo. Dude, I fucking went to your house but your mom said you're staying with the old geezer in Maine!"

Leave it to my mom to give a totally fake excuse. "Yeah. Sorry, he took my phone. He doesn't like when I … text."

"Ah, got it. Hey, Maria's here too. She wants to talk. That cool?"

I think about Stevie, but agree anyway.

"Zander!" she squeals. She's high too, but only slightly. She never really smokes too much. She just smokes enough that it seems like she's having a good time even when she's not.

_Maybe because she doesn't really like Greg all that much… _

"Hey… Maria."

"I'd _love_ to come visit you."

"You can't. I'm in Ma…"

"Don't lie to me," she says, laughing. Then she lowers her volume to just above a whisper. "Greg may be stupid enough to believe that, but I know where you really are."

"Wh… where may that be?" I ask nervously. But she can't actually know. How would she know? My mom covered it…

"Your little brother told me when I came to see you."

I take a deep breath and swallow.

_Wait, she came to visit me? _

"What the fuck made your life so unlivable that you tried to kill yourself?"

"I… I don't know."

"So you're in the psych ward at fucking Blessed Heart. Damn, your life is fucking crazy jacked up. Now, tell me: how many crazies are around you?"

"N… none. They're all really, really cool."

She laughs, but it sounds more like a wicked cackle. "I bet there's like, some crazy schizophrenic there who always talks about fairies and shit like that. Do you have a love interest? Is it some slutty borderline chick? More than one? They'll give it up to anyone who calls them pretty and says they'll never leave their side. What hoes."

I'm infuriated now, but Maria keeps laughing. Instead of finding beauty in her laugh, I think of it more as evil.

"That's not true at all, Maria. Everyone here is really nice and accepting of…"

"Crazy people. Crazy people like them. But you're not crazy, Zander. You're not one of those people that get laughed at. You're not pathetic. Jesus! You're hot! People _like _you, people _want _you. Those freaks… they're nothing. I can't fucking _wait_ for you to get out. You can come over and, you know, we could…"

Her words trail off and I think of what we could do, because, hey, I'm a teenage boy and I have hormones and stuff.

But I snap out of it just a moment later.

I clench my teeth when admitting, "I have four days minimum. Two to go."

I can feel her smile through the phone. "Greg wants me to hang up now. Don't tell him what I said. We'll _both_ get in trouble." Added in like an afterthought, she whispers, "Then again, a nice spanking has never hurt anybody."

I groan, fighting how I feel with what I know is right. "Whatever. Bye Maria."

"See you soon, Zander." She cackles again.

I hang up the phone feeling exasperated and completely turned on.

* * *

**I really hope you guys liked this! It means so much when you do! Tell me what you think / what you think will happen next! **

**Review and favorite if you want to make me happy! **

**I had the worst day today [literally, it was AWFUL!] I'd explain it but it's kind of hard to explain and well, let's just say I think you guys are the only ones who can make me feel better. If you want. Which I hope you want. **

**Gosh, I love you guys! (: Until next time? **

**MWAH! **

**xoxoxo aworldwellneverfind xoxoxo**


	4. Day 3

**Sorry it took so long! I've been busy and haven't had time to update! Hope everyone's having an awesome holiday season. Before the story, I'll do a little responding... **

**Peacelovewriting32: Oh my gosh! That's such a coincidence. I'm so honored that you like mine better, especially since I WORSHIP that book. It's fantastic! (: As for favorite characters, I'm going to have to agree with you. Re-reading what I made Kevin say KILLS ME and as for Stevie, what's not to like? Also, LOVE the relationship dynamic of Kasey and Kevin. They're so meant to be. Love when couples fight. Thanks for your review, honey! I love long reviews! (; **

**JustCallMeLarry: You're a sweetheart! I'm so flattered that you like my story! And I'm sorry this isn't all that soon, but I hope that you didn't move on and still love it! As for the drama, what's a story without a little bit of drama? This chapter especially! (: Thanks! **

**Vamplove218: WAZZBAG! Aw, you're so cute! That's hilarious! I'm not a Maria fan myself. I think she's awful. I kind of changed Zander to make him fit with the plot. On the show, he seems pretty happy to me. (: Thanks for reading, my dear! **

**Taylor: Nah, you're sweet. Thanks for reading! (: **

**Kayleighann5: Thank you, dear. So glad you like it. I guess you'll have to read and see what happens with Zander and Maria! (; **

**On with the story? Two chapters left! **

* * *

Day 3:

I wake up to a sharp pain in my arms, a figure leaning over me in the dead of night.

"Heh. Heh."

The voice speaking is raspy, scary. The figure is perched on me, hands holding me to my bed, claws digging into my arms. I want to scream but I can't find the energy, and I cannot help but wonder if this is a dream or real life.

The figure starts rocking, shaking the bed, and the voice begins to pant. Evilly.

_What the hell is going on? _

The claws grab at my neck, pulling me up.

The voice speaks again. Raspy. Frightening. Foreign. "He wants you dead."

My face is scratched, but it's not bleeding. The cuts are not that deep, or at least, they don't feel like they are. I blink my eyes several times.

_Am I hallucinating? Is this real life? _

"He… hello?" I barely make out, the grasp tightening around my neck. "Who… who are you?"

I'm slowly losing hearing as I fight the urge to pass out, but the response is clear.

"Bill."

_Nelson. _

_This shouldn't be happening on his medication. _

Gaining as much strength as a barely breathing person could, I take my hands and shove him upwards. He's light, not surprisingly, and it takes almost no effort to hoist him off of me. Still, he continues.

"Bill doesn't like being touched." Scary Nelson opens his eyes widely, so much that I could clearly see them through the thick two a.m. darkness, and laughs manically.

"Nelson," I say calmly. "Nelson, snap out of it."

But there's no use. He must've not taken his medication. The medication prevents incidents like this. He wouldn't be hallucinating right now, he wouldn't be trying to kill me.

"Bill. Will. Be. Avenged. "

He walks towards me slowly, a giant grin plastered on his face. I scout myself quickly back on my bed, leaning partially against the wall. One hand is held above my head, and the other fiddles around on the bed frame, in particular looking for a specific red button. Pressing it, I smirk at Nelson. Scary Nelson, not normal Nelson.

_It's horrible that he has to deal with that kind of thing. All because of his dad. _

A nurse rushes in, her short, dark hair tied back sagaciously. She's wearing light pink scrubs – a change up from the typical white – and she knows instantly what's going on.

"Do you know if he's taken his medication?"

"I have no clue…"

"He's hallucinating. Did he touch you?"

"Barely," I lie. Even though it's not the true Nelson I know, I would never try to get my friend in trouble. Plus, it's not like I'm _seriously_ injured.

She looks at me, emotionless, as though she's dealt with problems like these far too many times. "Do you want to file a rooming transfer request? You won't have to deal with this anymore."

"Nah, it's fine. I had nothing better to do at two in the morning," I joke. She doesn't laugh.

"Okay. I'll take this one. Good night." She tugs Scary Nelson out of the room. I make eye contact with Scary Nelson one last time as he's pulled out of the room, and I see sadness, spite. I can tell that he's broken, that he's been that way for a while.

Half asleep in my hospital bedroom, I opt to never break a person down like Nelson's dad did to him, like so many people do every day. Because a life is worth so much more than that.

"Zander?" an unfamiliar voice wakes me up.

_Not again, _I think. _Hasn't Nelson gone through enough in one night? _

To my surprise, it's not Nelson hovering above my bed in the middle of the night. In fact, it's broad daylight, Nelson is nowhere to be found, and there's a nurse of some sort watching me as I sleep, saying my name softly.

"Hmm?" I wonder, rubbing my eyes.

"You have a visitor."

"Who is it?" I ask.

The nurse shrugs at me. "She didn't say."

_Mom, _I smile.

"Okay. Can I get ready really fast?"

"Sure. I'll give you some privacy. Close the curtains and get ready. Open the door when you're done. I'll send in the visitor."

"Thanks."

The nurse turns to go, but I tap her arm before she can. "Anything I can help you with, Zander?"

"Where's my roommate? Nelson. Nelson… Baxter." I suddenly recall his last name is Baxter and decide to throw it in for good measure.

"He's under intense observation right now, but he'll likely be back by later today. He had a little… episode last night. I'm sure you know."

"Yeah."

"It's alright. He'll be fine. It's common with many of our schizophrenic patients. It's sweet that you worry."

She leaves the room, and closing the curtain, I begin to get ready. I take my time, though. Mom can wait.

"FINALLY! I thought you'd never be done," I hear someone say as I pull open the door, and instantly, I'm able to identify the voice with its owner.

Maria Lopez.

"Maria!" I shout, somewhat unwelcoming. "What are you _doing _here?"

"I... I didn't like the way we left things last night, you know?" She looks at me, her hands behind her back, grinning shyly.

_Maria? Shy? No fucking way. _

"I _don't_ know. I also don't know WHAT YOU'RE DOING HERE!" I'm infuriated. She wasn't even supposed to know I'm here, now she's visiting me.

"Chill, asshole. I came to visit you. We're friends, right?" She takes a few steps closer to me, putting her hand on my chest. She smells like lilac or some other type of flower and peach. Not a bad combination at all.

Her hand moves to my quick-beating heart and she smirks, biting her lip slighting and looking down.

_She can feel how badly I want her right now. _

"Wh… what time is it?" I stutter, trying to control my raging hormones. _The girl I've wanted for so long is right in front of me, acting sexier than anything. Think of something unsexy. Dead puppies. Itchy sweaters. Corn fields. _

"One o'clock," she whispers.

_It's one o'clock. Time for activities. We could make this quick; Nelson won't be back and Stevie will never know… _

_Stevie. _

Remembering my friend, my best friend, the girl who knows more about me in the short time I've met her than Greg knows, and I've known him for years. Stevie, the girl whose lips tasted like vanilla and who made me feel perfect, like I have a reason to live, like my life was never really so unlivable.

I look at Maria, the girl who ripped apart all my friends here, who indirectly caused my attempted suicide. The girl I used to be in love with.

_Used to. As in past tense. _

Without warning, she shoves me into my room, shutting the door behind her. The room is bright despite the almost fully closed curtains.

Walking up behind Maria, I question, "What are you doing?"

She responds, "What I should have done four years ago."

Before I could muster a reply, Maria presses her lips to mine, hungrily, angrily.

"Maria…" I start to say, but she shushes me.

"I'm going to take your virginity."

I pull back from her and sit down on my bed, fuming at that thought. "Wh… what? No! No! Stop, Maria. What are you doing? What about Greg?"

"He'll never know if you don't tell him."

"Maria…"

"Zander, it's been you this whole time. It's always been you. It took being away from you for me to realize it, but I'm in love with you. I'll dump Greg. I don't need him. I need you. I want you."

She kisses me again, and, exhausted from the night before, I let her. I don't necessarily kiss back; I just don't pull away. I open my mouth at the right time, put my hands where they should be, and well, after a while, I kiss back.

_Maria's what you wanted, Zander. She's why you're here. Now you have her. Now you're happy. _

But now, with Maria throwing herself at me, I feel like crap.

_It's less complicated this way, _I try to tell myself. _You could have Maria and go back home and be happy. You won't have to worry about any of the things here, none of the problematic friends or the attached borderline chick. You'll have your old friends back – surely Greg will understand – and everything can go back to the way it was. _

_Everyone will be better off that way. _

So I settle with Maria, kissing her hard, passionate, and dragging her down on top of me. We move in sync as she, on top, dominates the kiss, deepening it as I gasp for air. I know she's done this tens of times with Greg – he'd always tell me right afterwards, and I'd encourage him, as if it didn't kill me to hear.

Speaking of, Greg mentioned to me once that Maria liked being rough, that she liked all the dirty little games, liked getting smacked and spanked and shit like that. Feeling incredibly risky and dirty at hell, I grab her ass. She moans loudly into the kiss. I pull my shirt off over my head, and, in a total chance move, smack her. Hard.

However, instead of reacting the way that I thought she would, she shoves me, pulling off of me.

"What the _hell_ did you do that for?"

"I was… just… trying to… you know?"

"No. I don't fucking _know_," she hisses at me. "You're immature, Zander. You know that? I can't… I can't believe I almost had sex with you. You're disgusting."

She walks up to me, her finger pointing directly at my face. "If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll cry rape. I mean it."

Pulling the door open so hard that I thought for sure she'd ripped it out of the hinges, she storms out of the room and through the hallway.

"Maria!" I call after her.

"Go away!" she screeches back.

"But… but… I love you!"

I regret the words instantly as they come out of my mouth, and Maria doesn't buy a single piece of it.

"_Don't_ call me!" She exits the psych ward without hesitating a bit.

Turning around, I see something that I really don't want to see. Someone, actually.

_Stevie_.

She's staring at me now, her jaw dropped, her eyes wide. In her hand sits a single sheet of paper. I feel guilty immediately, knowing that the anger and sadness that I've taken away have once again returned, this time worse than ever.

"I knew all guys were the same."

The second girl in two minutes storms away from me, dropping the paper in her hand to the floor, and I can't help but hate myself. It's my fault.

I'm worth less than I originally thought, and I've broken two people the way I promised myself only a few hours prior that I never would.

Worse, even, I've broken myself, too.

I pick up the paper that Stevie dropped. I know that she was bringing it to me, for me to see. Written in her messy, bubbly handwriting reads:

Both Sides Of The Story

By Stevie R. Baskara and Zander Robbins

And I knew instantly what a mistake I made, what this really cost when I allowed myself to settle with Maria, to tell her I loved her.

When I knew I was in love with someone else.

Someone else who'd overhear, who'd see me and break down again.

Who'd take their own life because of it.

"Stevie," I call, running after her. I see her walk into her room, slamming the door shut in the process. "Stevie!"

Standing at the door, I pound my fist, hoping that maybe she'll give me a chance to explain, to apologize…

Maybe Kacey's in there.

"Stevie, please, babe…"

"Don't call me babe. Don't call me anything."

"Please, give me a chance."

"I gave you one, and you blew it. You really blew it, Zander. Now leave."

"So this is it? This is how it ends?"

"Yup," she says through the door. "This is how it ends."

"This isn't goodbye, Stevie," I declare, hoping that she believes me, hoping that I believe myself. "It's… it's BRB!"

"Goodbye, Zander. For real. Forever."

"This is really it? This is where you want us to end?"

"Yup. Better luck next time. Now leave."

"Stevie," I bang on the door once again, but I know that she's walked away; her blinds are drawn, but I know she's in the bathroom or perhaps hiding under the covers, crying.

And while I'm sad to lose her, I'm happy that we ended things here, where she's safe, where she's with Kacey who will never let anything bad happen to her.

Like I wasn't supposed to let anything bad happen to her either.

It's funny how things change, and how one moment, one mistake can ruin everything.

The halls are mostly empty at night because 'lights out' was a few hours ago, at nine thirty, but I creep through them anyway. I know my final destination, to talk to the girl that I've ruined, the reason for my happiness and my current depressed state. She's not the reason I'm here, but she is the reason that I want to stay, the reason that I'd put my perfectly planned out [by two career counselors and my father] life on hold. Because I have to make things right.

I'll stay here as long as it takes to fix all the problems I've caused. However long that may be.

No one asks me why I'm out of bed, probably figuring that I left something somewhere or maybe I'm just taking a stroll. Maybe they don't care.

Regardless, I am on a mission.

I know where Stevie's room is, even with every door perfectly shut, and I hoped she wasn't in bed. I need to talk to her, to apologize to her, to try and make everything better.

Try.

Grabbing the cold metal doorknob, I'm surprised to find it open, although I know we're not allowed to sleep with locked doors just in case something happened. [While the medical staff does have keys to every room, if emergency strikes, it's much easier not to struggle with keys.] I assumed that Stevie would lock it anyway, but maybe Kacey had left it open for me. She's always been a romantic comedy fan.

I slide the door open and find myself face to face with big, popping eyes and deep brown hair.

"Wh… who are you?" I question.

She shoves my stomach a little with her unnaturally bony hand, pushing my away from the door as she walks out. Closing the door, she smiles at me, a fake-looking smile. Her skin is thin yet swollen, and she looks exhausted. And sad. "I'm Molly Garfunkel, queen bee around here. And you're Zander Robbins. I know what happened, don't worry."

I squint at her, trying to wrack my brain for any remembrance of this girl. At breakfast, yes, but… when else?

_Oh. That. She was the girl stuffing her face. _

"Why would I worry?"

"Because I told Stevie, your little girlfriend, what _fully _happened. You know, how you and that chick were about to have sex when you… well, you know what you did."

"How did you…"

"Oh, Zander, you spy on me, I spy on you."

"When… Oh. I didn't spy. I just saw…"

"You watched me, Zander. So I watched you in return."

"You ruined everything!" I scream at her, catching the attention of the nurses and doctors working around us.

"You ruined everything yourself, honey."

"It's past curfew," an approaching nurse says. "Off to bed."

But I'm not through with her. I drag her into an empty room, a room with a long table and bookshelves and a computer. Some sort of conference room, perhaps?

"Why would you do that?" I ask, more calm this time. I don't want to be heard.

"Zander, let's face it. Stevie's psychotic. You don't need a girl like that. She has issues; she'd only drag you down. You need a girl without problems, a girl who you need not fear will attach herself to you and never let go. You need a girl like _me." _

"Without problems?" I spit out. "You're fucking _queen _of problems. You're causing drama where you're not even involved and you're obviously here for a reason, too."

"I'm here for something I can stop at any time."

"Then why don't you?" I remember learning that eating disorder patients say they could stop at any time, but it's more complicated than that. They do it because of poor body image, low self-esteem, things that don't just go away overnight. "If you can stop it, why don't you?"

"If I stop, then I'll be released. And I can't leave _you _here alone, can I?" Molly steps closer to me, her fingers walking up my chest in a slow, flirtatious kind of way. "You've already gotten with two girls with me here. Imagine me _gone_."

"You're crazy," I shake my head, backing away. "Leave me alone!"

"No can-do, Zander. I've set my sights on you, and I'm going to get you. Molly Garfunkel always gets what she wants."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because," she smiles. "you're the exact kind of guy that I need. Self assured, cute, and well, perfect."

"I'm far from perfect."

"Shh," she puts her fingers to my lips. "You're perfect. So am I. These problems, they're self-inflicted, because we're _bored_ with our lives. We could walk away any time from these problems. Stevie, she can't. She's forever stuck like that."

Molly leans in to kiss me, but I shove her away.

"No!" I yell. "I refuse to believe anything you say. _You_ belong in a place like this, trying to ruin the best thing that's ever happened to me. I refuse to let you win! I can't… I can't lose her."

"Why her?" she asks. "I'm prettier, funnier, more popular. I'm perfect. So why her?"

"Why her? Because despite her imperfections, she's perfect for me."

The door opens, and in my exhausted daze, I have expected Stevie to come out, say that Molly was a test and I passed. But she didn't. And in walks a nurse.

"Both of you, to bed now!" she orders, and we obey. After all, there's time for everything tomorrow.

There's still time for the mess I made to be cleaned. It's never too late.

* * *

**GASP! What do you think will happen? What do you think of Molly? Tell me in your reviews! **

**Follow and favorite if you want to make my day! **


	5. Day 4

Sorry everyone! I know it's been far too long! High school is such a bummer. In fact, the only reason I'm able to update this is because I was out sick today and didn't have tremendous amounts of work to do.

It's getting to homecoming season, and I've been so occupied with that drama too. But do not fear - if I get enough reviews, I'll update sooner rather than later. I really want to know what you think. This is the second to last chapter - well, kind of. There's an epilogue at the end.

Hope you guys enjoy! Read / review / favorite. Leave your opinions!

Remember: I don't own HTR or the book in which this fan fiction is based. And I do not mean to make fun of psychological disorders or mood disorders. The moral of the story is that life is beautiful and you can find beauty in the strangest of places.

* * *

Day 4:

My inability to fall asleep due to traumatizing events from the day before caused me to sleep until slightly past noon. Glancing to my right, Nelson, who had arrived back in the room after intense observation at some point very early this morning, is out of bed, likely at lunch or playing video games with Kevin in the recreation room.

I don't rush out of bed; instead, I take my time. I'm not hungry and I'm feeling worse than I have in a long while. It doesn't take me long to remember why my body aches; last night, I ruined the best [and shortest] relationship of my life by telling another girl that, frankly, I couldn't give a crap about, that I love her.

I'm stupid.

And I miss Stevie.

Because I'm pretty sure that I'm in love with her.

Not that that'd even matter. Not that she'd ever give me a chance to talk to her.

An idea flashes through my head. It might just be a long shot, but…

I can sing to her.

I get ready slowly; I have time before activities. I need to look and sound my best in order to impress Stevie enough to listen to me, to hear my side of the story.

She's always been a fan of hearing both sides of the story, hasn't she?

* * *

I sneak out of my room just after activities has been called and I know for sure they're all in the activities room. Tiptoeing through the empty hallways, I sneak into the rec room.

I'm early; that much I know. I know Stevie won't be here for a few moments, and that's all I need. I need time to get ready, to tune the guitar, to make sure that the words I'm about to sing will make sense.

Not that I've ever been one to rehearse.

Strumming the guitar with random notes that sound pretty good together, I sing, "Does this mean that it's over and done with? / I was happy for so long. / Let's forget that I always forget / And I'd be happy to move on. / But this time, I'm not over it."

The voice that cuts me off is beautiful, familiar, and I know instantly that it's the girl I've been waiting for. However, she takes my song in an entirely new direction. "I guess you were always the worst thing about me. / Now I can see that you're not the real thing. / You keep me running back, running back. / This time, it's not ending well. / And if you want me now, / I'll make your life a living hell."

_Living hell? _

I stop playing the guitar and turn around to face the girl that I've broken, the girl who trusted me, the girl I'm in love with.

"I knew you'd be here," she says flatly. The light from the hallway illuminates her from behind, and although she's dressed entirely in black, she looks like an angel. A dark angel, but an angel nonetheless. "But I came anyway."

"Which means you want to talk."

"No. I wanted to sing a song to you. One I wrote for you. Last night. When I didn't sleep. Where no one was there to comfort me while I cried my eyes out over a jackass who doesn't deserve my tears."

I'm taken aback by her declaration; I figured that by meeting me here, she'd let me explain, maybe she'd forgiven me. I was so completely wrong. "Stevie… wait, where was Kacey?"

"She spent the night in Kevin's room."

Of course she did. Friends never seem to be there when you need them. It's an accident, yes, and they don't mean it. Still, during moments of true weakness, we're always alone. "Please, let me explain."

She shakes her head before simply uttering, "No. Let me sing."

Grabbing her bass, she sits down gracefully [yet relatively angrily] and strums.

"I guess it was wishful to think / I was different from the rest. / Now I'm red in the face. / I don't think I'm impressed."

As she sings, I gasp slightly. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with her, and she's saying that she's the no different than any other girl? She's got a hell of a lot of nerve.

Annoyed with her for accusing me of being a player when she barely knows me, I sneer to the rhythm, "Miss Strong & Outspoken / So easily broken."

"Now I kick myself. / I should've known better. / Get it together."

"You can't blame me," I demand-sing.

"Are you listening? / Wrap your lines around another / While you sweet talk to yourself. I'd rather leave. / You stitched a heart on your sleeve / But I see right through the seams. / I knew the coward in you would play the lead." After a few additional strums, she stops playing and looks at me. "I have more, but I don't want to damage your ego too much. You know how those players get."

Crossing my arms, I question, "Won't you say it's unfair for you to label me something? You barely know me."

"I know you well enough to know that you played two girls in four days, Zander. That's pretty ladies' man to me."

Infuriated, I know she's right, but I refuse to let her win. "Maybe I only played one, Stevie. Maybe one of them wasn't being played. Maybe I loved her, still love her. Maybe I loved one of them since I first saw her."

"Well," Stevie scoffs. "I hope that you and your slut are very happy together."

She storms at the door, leaving the bass out.

"Stevie," I call after her.

Because maybe she was the one I loved from first sight.

Maybe she was the one who truly helped me get over Maria.

Maybe she is the perfect girl from me.

Maybe I just lost the one and only love of my life.

And maybe I can't afford to lose her.

* * *

"Stevie," I follow her as she storms through the hospital's empty hallways. "Stevie."

"Leave me alone, Robbins."

"Stevie, let me explain. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

"Do you know how many times I've heard that word? _Stevie, sorry, but your dad and I weren't working out. Stevie, sorry, you're pathetic. Stevie, sorry, but I can't believe that you'd actually think I'd like you. Stevie, sorry, but I'm too good for you. _That stupid word, it's meaningless to me now. So sorry doesn't cut it."

"Stevie, you don't understand."

"I understand everything, Zander. That's the problem. You love someone else. Don't bother with me any longer."

"But… I don't love her." Stevie pauses after I admit that, but then continues walking, picking up her pace as she travels onwards.

"Then why'd you tell her you love her?"

"Because… I told her what she wanted to hear. Because maybe by telling her that, it'd fix everything. But it didn't. She still left. And while I didn't know it at the time, I'm truly happy that she left."

Stevie stops walking and turns around, tears swelling in her eyes. That's when I'm confident I got through to her. However, she didn't seem to want to show it because she sticks out her tongue at me and rushes inside a door, slamming the door shut in the process. A door. Her door. I hear a click of the lock and stomping away.

So Stevie's in her room again, with the door shut and locked.

With her locked in there, though, she's exactly where she needs to be. Because she's forced to listen to me, as much as she doesn't want to.

Standing outside her door, I try again. Singing to her, that is.

"She's like a rock / And I keep chipping off a piece to hold on to."

I hear footsteps in her room, as though she's walking closer to the door to try and hear me better. So I repeat the line from before.

"She's like a rock. / And I keep chipping off a piece to hold on to."

There's a pause, and I hold my breath, hoping that maybe she's about to sing or something, but nothing happens. Defeated, I walk away.

"And she's got a lot of nerve, / not seeing you the way that I do."

I turn around to find myself face-to-face with Stevie, the door ajar, one arm on the door, the other gesturing me inside.

"Thank you," I say, but she rolls her eyes, still frowning, still furious with me. But at least I have time to explain. She leads me into her room.

"You have sixty seconds."

"That's all I need."

"Fifty five."

"You aren't seriously counting, are you?"

"Forty eight."

"Stevie," I begin, my voice rushed. I begin to break a sweat, which is unnatural for me. I'm typically calm around girls, but Stevie does this kind of thing to me. "That girl was Maria who I've liked for two years, but she's dating my best friend Greg. She finally gave me attention yesterday and… I thought I loved her. But I don't. Because seeing her just made me realize how much I didn't love her and how much I love you."

Stevie pauses for a second, pursing her lips, taking everything in. "Didn't you tell Maria you love her?"

"I… I just told her what she wanted to hear."

"How do I know you're not telling me what you think I want to hear?"

"Because… well, I guess… you don't. But I guess you just need to trust me."

"I have trust issues, Zander. I'm not going to trust you to get my heart broken again."

"But… I actually love you."

"It's been four days. This isn't love."

"Romeo and Juliet fell in love in one night, at one glance. Five days, their lives were over. That's like us."

"We're not like Romeo and Juliet at all."

"Well, I mean, we're a little different. For instance, Romeo and Juliet killed themselves after we met, and we tried before we met. Little things make us different from them, but come on. There's people keeping us apart, like Maria and Molly and Justin and both of our pasts. But they are things pushing us together, like fate and love and…" I stop for a second. "Music."

Stevie opens her mouth to say something, but I don't let her. I crash my lips into hers, and while she resists at first, she finally stops and kisses me back.

"Is all well?" I ask when I pull away.

"No," she shakes her head. "I can't forget this. You've hurt me, Zander. And I am done getting hurt by guys. Every time I open my heart up to someone, this happens. And I'm sick of it. I can't be in constant fear for the rest of my life."

"You don't have to forget this, Stevie. You just have to forgive me. Because I'm sixteen; I'm going to make mistakes and screw up a bunch of times. I'm going to scare you sometimes and we're going to fight but only because that's what a true relationship is. I can't promise you that I won't hurt you, but what I can promise is that I'll never hurt you intentionally, and through all of our problems, I'll love and support you."

Stevie bites her bottom lip as though she's thinking, and then says, "That's enough for me. I'm sorry if I'm coming off as too strong. I'm not asking you to be perfect, Zander. I've just been hurt so many times that I can't risk everything again. I put my life on the line for those I love, and I don't want to break again. I've been broken for so long that when you came along to start picking up the pieces, it's like I threw myself off the edge again. I look for the faults in people instead of the strengths, and it takes a lot for me to trust someone. But now… I trust you. And… I love you, too."

We both lean in and kiss once again, longer and more emotional than the one before, and suddenly, I feel my life begin to piece together. Maybe I didn't have too much of a reason to check in four days ago, but I do now. Fate brought me here instead of to my death because they knew that I'd find my cure here.

My imperfect, many-times-broken, beautiful cure.

I don't know what I'm going to do with my life, whether or not I'll make it into the college my dad wants to send me to, whether or not I'll succeed in life, whether I'll make a lot of money or not. All I know is that I'm going to have the time of my life pursuing a career of my choice with the girl of my dreams and the friends that I love.

And I'll be happy for once. Because really, happiness is all that matters.

* * *

Hello, hello! What did you guys think? I'm sorry it was a little bit short but I don't know - maybe you guys will like it.

I'm so excited to read through your reactions and all that. I think it'll be super cute to read the comments [even the bad ones make me a little bit happy because someone took the time to tell me how much I suck.] However, I much prefer nice comments. Then again, don't we all?

I know HTR is over, but let's keep it alive in our hearts. Love you all, and I hope we can bond over this awesome show as we grow old. (: Love each and every one of you to the power of six gazillion. (;


	6. Day 5 Epilogue

**Hi guys! Sorry it's been so long! I'm ashamed of myself! **

**You guys are the best followers and fans in the world, so I won't bore you with my words. **

**CAN I JUST SAY THIS IS THE END? **

**I'm going to miss it. Are you? **

**Well, without further ado, here ya go! (: **

* * *

Day 5: [Epilogue]

"Guys, I have something to tell you," Stevie admits. She had ordered all of our friends and psychiatric patients to the recreation room after lunch, which she finally ate. "It's kind of a secret I've been keeping for a while."

Today is my last day at Blessed Heart Hospital, and I currently stand next to Stevie as she looks down at our sitting friends. Our hands are intertwined.

"What is it?" Kevin asks edgily, clearly impatient.

"Well…" Stevie starts. I squeeze her hand for encouragement; I know she doesn't want to confess this to our friends, but I told her she should. I'm being released tomorrow morning and the last thing I want is for her to chicken out before I'm gone. "I… I sing. I write songs, and play bass and… I love music. It's like a secret talent."

"Really?" Kacey opens her eyes widely in shock from her spot in the front, beside Kevin. "Because I always thought I was a great singer. We should totally sing together some time, you know?"

"Kacey," Kevin says. "Let Stevie talk. You always try and steal her spotlight."

"I do not! I'm just happy for my friend! Is that a problem?"

"It is when you drag yourself into every conversation."

"Guys!" Stevie stomps her foot. "We're in the middle of something. Fight later."

"Sorry," Kacey mouths, turning her attention from Kevin back to Stevie and I.

"Anyway, like I was saying…"

"Ooh!" Nelson claps his heads widely. "I am so excited to hear what it is."

Grace, who is sitting between Nelson and Molly, turns to him. "So am I."

They lock eyes and Nelson smiles shyly.

"Ah-hem," Stevie clears her throat.

"Stevie and I wanted to sing a song we wrote for you guys," I interject loudly, and suddenly, all eyes are on me. I can't help but feel sheepish; maybe I should've let Stevie say what she was going to say. "If that's okay…"

"Yes!" Kacey squeals, followed by muffled 'yeahs' from the rest. One angry face in the crowd does not respond, sitting beside her sitting blonde best friend with a scowl that looks like it's permanently on his face.

But I ignore her and turn my attention back to Stevie, where it should be, forever and always. Seconds later, we begin playing our instruments and Stevie starts singing. I swear she has the most beautiful voice.

"This isn't me / And I hate what we've become. / This isn't my life / And I don't know where it went wrong. / Wait and see…"

Cutting her off just like we rehearsed, I sing, "We'll figure it out / Then we'll skip this town. / You know you're better off with me."

Together, we sing, "We've been broken for so long. / So we will drive as far as we know. / We've got but one mile to go. / This is our fight. / We can't break this time. / We've got all night."

I take it from there. "When giving up is easy, you play is safe."

"You'll be a memory reminding me to learn from my mistakes," Stevie responds.

"Slow down. / Keep an eye on what you're after."

"Face down, with your back to the disaster."

"No one said we ever had to change."

We join together again in the chorus. "So we will drive as far as we know. / We've got but one mile to go. / This is our fight. / We can't break this time. / We've got all night."

I know we rehearsed this song together, that I spoke from what's true in my heart when we wrote it, but I can't help feeling flooded with new emotions when I sing, "I take back everything."

"This isn't what you think," Stevie sings in response. "We'll go right back to how we were."

"You've got me in knots thinking that this is all you hoped for."

"This isn't easy," Stevie sighs as she sings, a lone tear falling down her face.

"I take it all back. / I take it all back. / I take it all back."

"There's nothing left to say."

Twice, we join again and sing in unison the chorus. "So we will drive as far as we know. / We've got but one mile to go. / This is our fight. / We can't break this time. / We've got all night. / So we will drive as far as we know. / We've got but one mile to go. / This is our fight. / We can't break this time. / We've got all night."

Stevie ends the song with an "Oh-u-oh-u-ohhhhh."

I finally tear my eyes from Stevie to find an impressed audience of patients, doctors and nurses standing up, cheering for Stevie, cheering for _us_.

She hugs me tightly and through the applause and noise, she whispers, "thank you" into my ear. I smile a truly happy smile because for the first time, I feel everything falling together.

I guess they're right when they say that good things fall apart so better things can fall together.

* * *

So I guess that's the end. Isn't it ironic? I end up in the mental hospital because I've been unlucky in love and because I'm depressed and I leave feeling the happiest I have in a long while, and finding love along the way. And while there were a lot of reasons for me to give up that I didn't fore mention, I know now that there are also a ton of reasons to keep on trying.

You're probably wondering what happened next. I was released the next morning from Blessed Heart. Before I left, the gang threw me a small party in the rec room, complete with a delicious chocolate cake and tons of live music. Kacey and Nelson cried when I left, but not Kevin or Stevie. Kevin, because he can't express emotions. Stevie because she told me this is only the beginning.

And it is.

I am returning to St. Francis Academy. It'll be hard to keep up my grades and everything, but I mean, it's a great school and I still have Greg.

Ten days after my release, Kacey was discharged. Her emotions were brought back to normal with the help of medications. Her fighting with Kevin decreased too, but every so often, it reappears. Thankfully, they have not resorted to violence and it always ends with the two making up. She left her old school to attend mine and she sings in our newly formed band.

Kevin was released two days after Kacey. Happy in his freedom, he returned to foster care nearby myself. We jam out together all the time, him on drums and me on guitar, usually, and he plans to start at my school in the fall.

Stevie was released two weeks after myself, with the hope that she would not attempt suicide again. Her scars have already begun to heal and her family [she lives with her aunt, uncle, and three cousins] says this is the happiest they've ever seen her. She's happiest with me. Her aunt agreed to transfer her to my school and she's the bassist in our band since she's not too comfortable singing in front of people.

Nelson was discharged a month after Stevie; his episodes have all but completely disappeared and he seems completely normal. He still has weekly visits with his psychiatrist, but he still goes to our school and rocks out with us in our band, Gravity 5, on the keyboard. He and Grace made a love connection after a set-up by Stevie and the two have been inseparable since.

Kevin proposed to Kacey at senior year graduation, which she enthusiastically accepted. As for Stevie and I, we're just taking it slow.

I mean, I'm going to marry her eventually, I know that. I just want it to be the right moment before popping the question.

No matter the troubles that I've faced in my life and that I will face down the road, I know that I can get through them, as long as I have Stevana Baskara by my side.

Because I love her.

Why? It's kind of a funny story…

* * *

**Well, what'd ya think? **

**Did it end as you expected? Did you like it? Love it? Hate it? Indifferent? How did you want it to end? **

**Guys, I am soooo interested in your opinions, so review or message me! I can't wait to hear from you. **

**Plus, I need new story ideas so if you got one, I'm all ears! You're my little lovebugs! **

**Ugh, this ending is bittersweet. I can't wait to hear what you guys think! This is all for you, little Zevie lovers! :D **

**I love you all! **

**-aworldwellneverfind **


End file.
